Know How I Know You're Whipped?
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: Summary: Quinn, Rachel, Santana, and Brittany spend an afternoon at an arcade. Santana, bored and looking for a little payback, starts pestering Quinn with a game.  Quinn/Rachel   Santana/Brittany


**Title: **Know How I Know You're Whipped?

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez/Brittany [insert last name]

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **Quinn, Rachel, Santana, and Brittany spend an afternoon at the arcade. Santana, bored and looking for a little payback, starts pestering Quinn with a game.

* * *

"Know how I know you're whipped?"

Quinn and Santana are currently sitting opposite each other in a booth at Lima Ohio's famous arcade. They're nursing tall glasses of smoothies because their better halves ran off to play a very old 'Pole Position' game.

Quinn already knew what Santana was talking about. The two couples had watched _The 40-Year Old Virgin _just last night together. Rachel complained the whole time about how low brow the comedy was and Santana didn't appreciate it. This was Quinn's punishment for her girlfriend's big mouth.

She minutely shakes her head back and forth, cursing the shorter girl for not shutting up when instructed. "How?"

Santana leans forward, arms braced on the table top as if it was a huge secret. "You allow 'The Misses' to talk throughout a whole movie, too scared of her wrath if you actually told her to shut the hell up."

"Fuck you, San," she sneers as she turns away from the girl, choosing to focus her attention elsewhere. Two minutes later, she begins to laugh as she looks at Santana from the corner of her eye.

"What are you laughing about?" Santana asks, guarded.

Quinn turns back around to face her once more. "Know how I know you're whipped?"

"How?"

"When Brittany spotted a duck at the park two weeks ago, you treaded dirty pond water to catch it for her."

Santana's eyes widen in shock and embarrassment. But seriously, what was she supposed to do? Brittany was using her signature pout _and _she had her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wouldn't take no for an answer. So, being a good girlfriend, Santana cut her a deal. If Brittany promised not to tell anyone…and also promised hot lesbian sex, she would retrieve the duck for her. Looks like the girl only kept one of her promises.

"Y-you don't understand!" she exclaims, trying to do damage control. "She was pouting!"

"Uh-huh," Quinn replies noncommittally.

"She wanted the damn duck. What was I supposed to do?"

"Sure. I completely understand."

"Fuck you, Fabray."

They were both silent for a moment, Santana plotting revenge, and Quinn wondering whether or not Rachel was winning. When an idea pops into her head, Santana smirks devilishly.

"Know how I know you're whipped?"

"Are we still on this?" Quinn questions as she rips her attention away from tan legs and a short skirt. "Fine. How?"

"You wore a gold star during that _Bad Romance _performance we did," Santana tells her. "And _everyone _with ears knows that 'gold stars are kinda her thing.'" She mocks the short brunette with a high pitched voice.

"It had more of a silver tone," the blonde grumbles, trying to downplay the situation.

"Call it whatever color you want to, Q," Santana replies with a snicker. "Point is, you wore a star for your lady. It practically had 'Property of Rachel Berry' written all over it."

Pointing her left index finger in the direction of the other girl, Quinn was about to formulate a reply when a small hand wrapped itself around her finger.

She's immediately stunned into silence, blinking at the hand wrapped securely around her finger. Her eyes follow the path of the hand, connecting to a tanned arm. She follows the arm until she's met with pleading eyes and a jutted out, bottom lip.

Right eye twitching slightly, knowing that whatever Rachel wanted was not going to be good, she greets her, voice wary. "Hey, Rach."

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel replies. She then turns to Santana and greets her as well.

"Whatever."

Quinn glares at Santana for her rude and lack luster reply before refocusing on Rachel. "Was there something you needed?"

Rachel releases her hold on Quinn's hand to bring her two palms together, creating a small cup. "Can I have more money?" she asks in a childlike voice that never fails to charm her girlfriend.

Hazel eyes peer to her right to catch Santana smirking. If they ever played the 'Know how I know you're whipped?' game again, she was certain this would be used.

She leans in towards the other girl so that Santana wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. "Rachel," she hisses through clenched teeth. "I already gave you five dollars. I'm sorry that you can't make that high score, but maybe you need to quit while you're behind before I go bankrupt."

"But Quinn," she whines, "I was really close this time. And the machine informed me that I have insufficient funds to continue on with another game. Will you please give me another five? Please?"

"Well if I continue giving you money the _bank_ is going to inform _me_ that _I _have insufficient funds." Santana coughs in her hand, the sound suspiciously resembling the word 'whipped' and Quinn feels as if the vein in her neck's about it pop.

She fixes Rachel with a hard stare. She was not giving in. Rachel's expression goes from a 'woe-is-me' pout, to a charming and disarming smile as she meets Quinn's gaze, killing her with kindness. After all, that's how she finally got Quinn to cave and be her girlfriend.

She had walked the taller girl to class, bought her flowers, sang to her, anything to get her to be her girlfriend. One day after school, Rachel was tracing teasing lines down the blonde girl's sides as she struggled to get her books from her locker. She looked over at Rachel, eyes visibly darker, and growled, "What is it going to take to get you to stop?" Rachel then told her that the only way she would stop was if Quinn went on a date with her. She slammed her locker closed with shear aggression and muttered a "Fine" over her shoulder before storming off. Believe it or not, it was the start to a beautiful and loving relationship.

They were currently locked in a battle of will. One that Rachel wins because Quinn rolls her eyes before reaching behind her and grabbing her purse.

"Thank you, Quinn!" Rachel hugs the blonde tightly in appreciation. Before she can let go, however, Quinn grabs the back of her neck and positions Rachel's ear near her lips.

"I better get laid tonight," she whispers with importance.

Pulling back, Rachel tosses a saucy smirk and a wink to the blonde before she hurries back to the game machine.

"Gross," Santana complains from her side of the booth. When Quinn looks over at her, she has her mouth open wide and her pointer finger inside, gagging herself.

"Mature," the blonde comments with a small laugh.

Santana removes her finger and smirks at Quinn. She begins to look around moments later when she hears a 'Psst' sound and a voice whispering her name.

"Who is it?" she questions brusquely. When she looks toward the counter where the clerk is and sees Brittany, she instantly changes her attitude. "Oh, hey, Britt," she says in an attempt to recover.

Brittany dramatically motions for her to come over and Santana finds herself sprinting to the girl's side. She misses Quinn's muttering of "Whipped, bitch."

"What's wrong?" she pants

"S, can you buy me a smoothie?" she asks as she wraps her arms around the shorter girl's neck.

Santana returns the embrace with years of practiced ease. "Of course, what kind do you want?"

"It's called Banana Explosion!" she excitedly points to the name on the menu in front of them on the counter.

"Okay, I'll get it. Just let me get money, I'll be right back." She sprints over to the table, snatching her purse from the booth seat and rummaging for money.

Quinn was busy staring at Rachel's ass as she bent over to deposit more of _her _money into the machine. But when she felt the presence of Santana at the table, she reluctantly removes her eyes and looks over at Santana's hurried and fumbling movements. "Know how I know you're whipped?"

"Kiss my ass. I'm not whipped," are the words tossed over Santana's shoulder as she runs back to Brittany's side.

"Here you go," she pants to the other girl.

"Thank you, S," Brittany purrs before kissing the girl soundly on the lips. And Santana thinks it's all worth it. The running, the being whipped, it was all good as long as she had moments like this.

At first she resisted the couple type moments that she and Brittany always shared. Sure, they were friends. Sure, they had sex. But in Santana's mind, sex wasn't dating. At least that's how she used to look at it. But one day, Brittany went over to Santana's house, talking about a new boyfriend she had acquired. What's his name. Santana saw red. She was angry, huffing and puffing for weeks. She didn't talk to Brittany or Quinn. Didn't talk to anyone. One day though, it was a Friday night, she remembered, Brittany came over to make up, even though she didn't know what the hell Santana was upset about. Santana didn't even talk to her then and Brittany got angry. Like, really angry. She told the girl to go to hell and was about to storm out of her room when a hand grasped her wrist tightly. Santana remembered lots of nails, biting, and clothes ripping. When she woke up the next morning, with Brittany tucked tightly by her side, her first thought was 'Sex with Brittany was definitely dating because she sure as hell wasn't going to be doing _that _with what's-his-name.'

She faintly hears Brittany saying something to her and she brings herself down from cloud nine so that she can hear her. "I'm sorry…what?"

Brittany rolls her eyes playfully at her girlfriend. Santana sure can be dense sometimes. "I said, do you think that Charles wants a smoothie?"

"Charles?" Santana asks with confusion. "You mean Charles as in your duck Charles?"

"Our duck, San. That's our baby," she pouts. "You really need to start claiming him."

"Sorry," she replies, mentally chastising herself. "Um, Britt, I don't think that ducks drink smoothies."

"Sure they do!"

"Uh…" She nervously peers over at the table where Quinn and now Rachel were. She didn't want to go back there and get _more _money because Quinn would tease her. She turns back to Brittany, fully prepared to put her foot down and tell her that she wasn't going to buy another smoothie when she's met with the same pout and crossed arms that Brittany had the day Santana had to get the duck. Needless to say, Santana was going to do what Brittany wanted.

She runs back over to the table and grabs her purse.

"Rach, I promise you, I am **not **going to that Wiggles concert."

"But Quinn, it's for one night only," Rachel replies with gesturing hands. "This is really important to me and I want to share it with you."

"No."

"Please, Quinn," she asks in a sing song voice with clasped hands under her chin.

Quinn looks Santana out of the corner of her eye, only now noticing her presence. The two give each other small imperceptible nods, deciding that this moment didn't need to be mentioned again seeing as that they're both insanely whipped.

Santana runs back to Brittany, sighing in sympathy at Quinn's quiet acquiesce.

She buys the smoothie and hands it to Brittany. The taller girl hugs her again and gives her a kiss.

"We should leave. You want to get it to him while it's cold," she tells the girl, wanting this day to be over.

She motions over to Quinn and Rachel and waits for the two to leave the booth before they walk out of the door.

Rachel and Brittany walk together in front talking animatedly about who knows what as Quinn and Santana trail behind, defeated.

"Know how I know we're both whipped?" Quinn questions tiredly.

"How?" Santana responds with a sigh.

"We just spent the better part of our afternoon, losing money in a hole in the wall arcade that our girlfriend's brought us to."

"At at least you didn't have to buy a smoothie for a duck," Santana replies. "Then had to claim said duck as your love child."

"Yeah, well at least you don't have to go to a Wiggles concert…and not get laid afterwards because your girlfriend's going to follow the tour bus across the country like a groupie," Quinn retorts.

They're both silent for a moment, as they continue walking to their respective cars, contemplating the events that occurred today. Finally, they both let out suffering sighs. "We are so whipped." But it's said with smiles.

END 


End file.
